


we were once beautiful

by hwangje (sehyxn)



Series: dyed in scenic beauty [1]
Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Slow Burn, tiny broduce cameos if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-12 15:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sehyxn/pseuds/hwangje
Summary: Seongwoo stares up at the sky above him, his heart aching for the missing piece that he'll never get back, and thinks how unfair it is that stars get to live for centuries.





	we were once beautiful

▶

It ends on a cold winter day, wrapped up in each other, Minhyun’s laboured breaths warm on the juncture between Seongwoo’s neck and shoulder.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” Minhyun rasps, hand coming up to clutch weakly at Seongwoo’s jacket, “you were supposed to forget about me and move on.”

“And you thought I could do that?” Seongwoo snaps, then realises that this isn’t the time to get angry. That Minhyun isn’t the right target for his anger, that there isn’t a right target, at all. Minhyun curls into his side in guilt and Seongwoo exhales shakily, tamping his frustration down. He pulls him closer, rubbing circles into his back in a silent apology, not trusting his lips to form the right words.

Minhyun beats him to it, still miles more eloquent even when his energy is ebbing away with every second that passes. “I’m sorry,” he says, words starting to slur with the effort it takes to get them out, “I didn’t, didn’t want you to--”

“Shh,” Seongwoo interrupts, carding his fingers through Minhyun’s hair. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Minhyun falls silent, looking mournfully up at Seongwoo through hazy eyes. Slowly, he reaches up, brushing past high cheekbones with trembling fingers, tracing the constellation of moles on Seongwoo’s cheek. “I don’t want to forget you,” he whispers, plaintively, gaze searching and sorrowful, as if he’s trying to map out the sharp lines and gentle curves of Seongwoo’s face, to commit it all to memory.

Seongwoo reaches up, taking Minhyun’s hand in his and interlocking their fingers, trying his hardest to ignore how cold Minhyun’s hand feels. “I’ll remember you,” he promises, willing his voice not to falter (not now, he tells himself, he needs to be strong for Minhyun), “I’ll remember you and I’ll come find you, so when I do,” he pauses to swallow the lump forming in his throat from how he's laying himself bare to someone else for the first time, “love me again, okay?”

By now, Minhyun can barely nod, but he doesn't need to; Seongwoo sees the familiar welling up of emotion in his eyes, the look he has when he gazes at Seongwoo like he’s the most precious thing the universe could ever offer, like Seongwoo’s the one that will disappear into stardust and not Minhyun. Like Minhyun still can't believe he deserves to have him.

Seongwoo has always been impulsive; as much as he tries to micromanage his every action, to hold himself back from jumping headfirst into everything, he always finds himself disarmed by Minhyun. Now is no different, so when the urge to kiss him swells in his chest, crashing upon him like a tidal wave, he does, pressing his lips gently to Minhyun’s, hand cupping the base of his neck, as if guiding him home.

It’s short and chaste, befitting their last time. Seongwoo pulls away with regret in his eyes as Minhyun’s flutter closed, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he's still here with Seongwoo, and rests his chin atop the crown of Minhyun’s head, breathing in his subtle fragrance.

They stay like that, drawing comfort from each other’s presence, Seongwoo’s thumb gently stroking the back of Minhyun’s hand. Now that Minhyun isn't looking at him, Seongwoo allows himself to watch him unabashedly, to observe the twitching of long eyelashes against puffy eyebags and the way shallow breaths escape from pale lips.

Even like this, Seongwoo still thinks Minhyun is beautiful.

It sets off a wave of feelings in him again, the voices that creep into his mind, whispering  _you never cherish what you have until you lose it_ and _what will you do when he’s gone_. Seongwoo holds Minhyun closer and tries to pretend there aren’t tears glistening in his eyes.

Then Minhyun stills, his head falling limply against Seongwoo’s shoulder, and before he can process it, Minhyun is gone. Seongwoo finds himself left with nothing but lisianthus petals scattered over his lap, cruel remnants of all that Seongwoo has loved and lost.

It is only then that the weight of his loss truly hits him, the space next to him far too empty.

 

 

◀◀

The streets are tranquil this early in the morning, the scent of fresh dew still hanging in the air, as if frozen in time.

Seongwoo takes in the unfamiliar buildings around him as he walks down the street, the gravelly road crunching beneath battered sneakers. He still has another hour to go before he has to report at the university dorms, so he sets his pace leisurely slow, drinking in the peaceful serenity as much as he can before it gets consumed by hectic schedules and unforgiving deadlines the moment the school term starts.

A quaint, unassuming shopfront catches his eye, and Seongwoo pauses to look at the vintage door, painted ivory white. There’s a chalkboard next to it, announcing _dahlias in bloom now! add them into your bouquet for a 10% discount!_ in pastel yellow chalk. Seongwoo notes the little sunflower drawn in the corner, complete with a smiley face, and he chuckles. The shop seems nice enough, unassuming and tranquil, a welcome change from the bustling activity back in his hometown.

A chime tinkles as he pushes the door open, not unlike the dulcet tones of birdsong. Almost immediately, Seongwoo is enveloped by the delicate scent of fresh flowers, faintly sweet.

The boy at the counter greets him as he walks in, voice melodious. “Good morning and welcome to  _Pétale Magique!_  I’m Hwang Minhyun, at your service.”

Seongwoo smiles, mood instantly lifted. “Morning! I'm Seongwoo, and I just moved here recently, so I thought I’d check out the shops around here before I have to report at the university dorms.”

“Ah, I see,” Minhyun nods in understanding. “Well, we don’t usually get many customers this early in the morning, so you’re welcome to stay if you like.”

Seongwoo hums in response, sitting down at one of the empty tables near the counter. “So, is this your shop?”

Minhyun shakes his head. “Nah, of course not. I’m just an assistant here; the shop actually belongs to Jisung, but I wake up much earlier than he does, so I’m usually the one setting up shop.”

“Ah, I see,” Seongwoo echoes, laughing when Minhyun squints at him, as if trying to figure out whether he’s teasing him (newsflash: he is).

They continue their small talk, bantering back and forth about little tidbits of their lives. At one point, Minhyun tries to teach Seongwoo how to pronounce the shop’s name, only to give up when Seongwoo still can’t get it right after fifteen minutes. Seongwoo finds himself enraptured by Minhyun’s bright smile and tinkly laughter, feeling like he could chat with him for hours on end.

Then the cuckoo clock hanging above the counter chirps merrily, and Seongwoo realises he’s spent too much time in the flower shop. He dashes out of the shop with a hasty apology and a sheepish smile, yelling _I’ll see you again tomorrow_ , Minhyun laughing after him.

 

 

▶▶

It becomes a comfortable routine, Seongwoo dropping by during his breaks to buy flowers and staying to chat with Minhyun until he has to rush off for his shift. Seongwoo finds he likes the company more than he thought he would.

“Why do you need so many flowers?” Minhyun asks one day, curious.

“I, um,” Seongwoo fumbles for an answer, trying to think of a somewhat believable excuse, “my boss loves flowers a lot, so he decorates every inch of the cafe with them. Well, not every inch, but you get the idea.”

To his surprise, Minhyun accepts the excuse easily. “I see,” he says, smiling amusedly, “well, tell him he’ll be getting a discount from now on for being a loyal customer.”

Seongwoo raises his eyebrows, eyes widening. “Wait, really? You can decide that?”

“Of course not, silly,” Minhyun laughs, “Jisung told me to tell you that.”

“Ah,” Seongwoo mutters, hand scratching the back of his neck in mild embarrassment. “Well, enough about my boss.” He pauses, trying to rack his brain for a conversational topic, anything that's somewhat interesting and doesn't require him to spin more lies. He ends up blurting out, “So, do you know any good places around here?”

“What?”

“Ah, I just moved here, so. I was wondering if you had any places to recommend?” Seongwoo hastily explains, internally congratulating himself for his quick save. It isn't exactly the most interesting conversational topic, but considering the other things Seongwoo’s said before, this falls on the decently good side of the spectrum.

Unexpectedly, Minhyun turns sheepish, blinking rapidly in the way that Seongwoo has learnt to recognise as one of his nervous tics. “I’m sorry, I...don't really know this area well,” Minhyun admits. “Jisung does the deliveries, so I don't really need to go out.”

Seongwoo gasps. “So you're telling me you just stay cooped up in the store all the time? Isn't that terribly boring?”

Minhyun shrugs, lips instinctively curving up into a contented smile as he says, “Yeah, but I like it here. I feel more comfortable around flowers anyway.”

“But that's no way to live!” Seongwoo exclaims, incredulous. “Where's all the excitement? The fun? The whole stepping out of your comfort zone thing?” Seongwoo pauses for a brief second before he continues, talking a mile a minute, barely giving Minhyun a chance to respond, “C’mon, you gotta live it up a little! We can explore together, and—”

Minhyun stops Seongwoo mid-sentence with a gentle touch on his forearm. “It's okay,” he says, voice soft, “I don't need it.”

“What?”

Minhyun averts his gaze, trying to think of the right words to say, the right way to phrase things so that Seongwoo doesn't go running right out of the shop. Most people are alright with magical beings, now, but he's met enough derisive customers to know that he isn't considered normal, heard enough veiled insults to know that tolerance usually doesn't equate to friendship. Not when they insist on keeping him at a distance, never going beyond polite small talk. He's okay with that, really; he tells himself he doesn't need their friendship, doesn't need their respect. They can do whatever they want, and he’ll still continue working here. But somehow the thought of Seongwoo discarding their friendship is a thought Minhyun doesn't want to have, a thought that — and he'll admit this only to himself — scares him.

He doesn't realise his breath is caught in his throat until he speaks and his words come out in a nervous exhale. “I'm not real, Seongwoo,” he whispers, voice tentative, sounding like a scared, flighty animal that’ll take off running at the slightest provocation. “Jisung’s magical, so he makes assistants out of flowers to help him around the shop. I’m not human, so it’s okay, I don’t really need to enjoy life.” he smiles, then, a small one, hoping it is enough to reassure Seongwoo.

It takes a second for Minhyun’s words to register in Seongwoo’s brain, but when they finally do, he just shrugs. “So? My boss has self-sweeping brooms and a talking cash register in his cafe. Magic’s everywhere these days, you shouldn't have to feel different,” Seongwoo points out. “Besides, you're here right now, in front of me, aren't you? I'd say that makes you as real as I am.”

Minhyun blinks, too stunned to respond. Seongwoo doesn't wait for him to, just yells across the (thankfully empty) shop instead, “Hey Jisung! Can I borrow Minhyun for a while? I promise I’ll return him safe and sound!”

Jisung beams, and nods eagerly. Seongwoo whoops, grabbing his backpack and slinging it on his shoulder. He clocks the look of betrayal that Minhyun’s directing towards Jisung and laughs, but it dies down when he sees a flash of trepidation in Minhyun’s eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Seongwoo says, beckoning Minhyun over, voice a little softer than before. “You might not need to enjoy life, but don't you want to?"

 

 

▶▶

Considering how soft-spoken Minhyun usually is in the shop, Seongwoo hadn’t expected him to be so _loud_.

Once they’d stepped out of the shop, Minhyun had taken in his surroundings with starry eyes, fascinated by even the most ordinary things, like the bakery’s automatic sliding door and the bell on the postman’s bicycle. He’d pointed everything out to Seongwoo as if it was both their first times seeing such things, bubbling with an enthusiasm that Seongwoo found endearingly cute (not that he’d ever admit it).

They’ve come to a stop at an ice cream van, parked at the end of the street, its bright blue and pink paint immediately catching Seongwoo’s attention. He’d somehow managed to wheedle Minhyun out of the vintage bookstore (“You’ve fallen for my charms, haven’t you?” Seongwoo winks saucily once they leave the bookstore. Minhyun just kicks him in the leg), which explains why they’re currently waiting for the boy behind the glass display to scoop their ice cream.

Minhyun eyes the cartoon-style decals plastered all over the van and the cloud-shaped balloons bobbing merrily behind the counter, and quips, “I’m pretty sure this place is geared towards children.”

Seongwoo raises an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself,” he drawls, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Jisung said he made you in summer, which makes you, what, four months old?”

Minhyun huffs indignantly, but doesn’t rise to the bait, because four months old or not, he is definitely more mature than the cackling mess beside him, thank you very much.

The ice cream boy hands them their ice creams with a bright smile, and Seongwoo takes it excitedly, immediately licking the top scoop and humming in contentment. Minhyun can’t help but laugh, nodding at the boy in thanks before following after Seongwoo.

By the time he catches up, Seongwoo’s already eaten half of the top scoop, licking his lips with relish. “It’s really good,” Seongwoo says, as if the speed at which he’s finishing the ice cream isn’t telling enough. “Want some?”

He holds the cone out to Minhyun, but instead of taking it, Minhyun’s eyes are fixated on Seongwoo’s face, lips slightly parted, as if debating whether to say something or not. Then he laughs, eyes crinkling into crescents, and reaches up to wipe the ice cream off the edge of Seongwoo’s mouth for him, touch gentle and warm through the paper napkin.

Seongwoo’s riveted, just briefly, something strange blooming in his chest, but he shakes the feeling off as quickly as it had come, and just like that it is gone.

 

 

▶▶

Ever since Seongwoo had shown Minhyun around the neighbourhood enough that he’d become comfortable with going out, Jisung had taken to sending Minhyun on errands, one of them being grocery shopping.

Minhyun examines the bag of apples in his hand, squinting at the label, then checking his shopping list. He groans, looking at the trays and trays of apples, all varying in name and region of origin. Jisung had sent him out with a list of items scribbled hastily on a piece of paper, but he’d written things like _two cans of tuna_ and _a loaf of bread_ and _five apples_. Minhyun had thought it’d be easy, until he entered the supermarket and realised there were approximately twenty different brands of everything.

He decides to get the bag of fuji apples, figuring they seemed the juiciest and Jisung wouldn’t be picky about the brand. Well, he hopes he won't be, because the next item on the list is corn, and Minhyun groans at the thought of having to repeat the whole process all over again.

He’s too engrossed in studying the first can he picks up, weighing it in his hands as he scans the shelves, to notice that he isn't alone. He ends up walking straight into someone, their shopping baskets crashing together and causing Minhyun to stumble backwards.

“Whoa, careful there,” a deep, smooth voice says, large hands reaching out to steady Minhyun. The voice sounds familiar, and Minhyun looks up to see Daniel, the owner of the cafe down the street, in an oversized grey hoodie.

They've never talked much before, only the usual polite small talk on the rare occasions that Daniel would drop by the shop to talk to Jisung, but he's heard enough from Seongwoo to know that he doesn't pose a threat. Daniel smiles, wide and guileless, as if proving Seongwoo’s point. “I thought you usually stay in the shop?”

“Ah, Jisung sent me out to pick up groceries since he’s busy with the accounting,” Minhyun explains, “but I’m still not too sure I know how this works.” He glances down at the can of corn in his hands, then at the seemingly neverending shelves in front of him. “Why are there so many different types of corn?” he whines, almost petulantly.

Daniel chuckles. “I can help you with that,” he offers, taking the can from Minhyun and placing it back on the shelf. “Follow me.”

Grocery shopping goes a lot more smoothly after that, with Daniel pointing out the higher-quality brands and teaching Minhyun how to get the best deals for the least amount of money. Minhyun watches Daniel fill their baskets in awe and decides that he’s bringing Seongwoo along on his next shopping trip, just so he can show off everything he’s learnt from Daniel.

The thought of Seongwoo reminds Minhyun of what he’d been meaning to tell Daniel, and he pipes up as they begin unloading their groceries at the self-checkout counter. “Oh yeah, Jisung wanted me to tell you that you can customise bouquets at the regular price. We usually charge a commission fee, but Jisung said he’s willing to waive it, since you’re a regular customer.”

Daniel pauses in the middle of checking out a head of lettuce. “Wait, what?”

“Seongwoo said you really love flowers,” Minhyun beams, “that’s why he comes over every morning to buy a bouquet for the cafe. So we figured you’d probably like to have your own customised bouquets.”

Daniel blinks. “I do like flowers,” he says, slowly, confusion evident on his face, “but I can’t have flowers in my cafe. I run a cat cafe, and most flowers are either toxic to cats or cause some form of irritation, so I don’t bring any flowers into the cafe, just to be safe.” He turns back to the groceries, scanning and bagging them with ease. “Whatever reason Seongwoo has for buying so many flowers, it certainly isn’t me.”

“But why would he buy so many flowers if they aren't for the cafe?” Minhyun asks, genuinely confused.

Daniel just laughs at him good-naturedly. “Well, isn’t it obvious?”

 

 

▶▶

Today, Seongwoo's decided to check out the old crafts shop tucked away behind a series of winding roads, just far enough away that it’s tranquil and undisturbed by the noise of traffic, but near enough to be accessible by foot.

The place reminds Minhyun of a countryside cottage more than an actual shop, what with its entirely wooden decor and miniature fireplace crackling away at the far end of the room. It's a nice place, warm and earthy, with the faint scent of berries. Minhyun thinks he wouldn't mind staying here forever.

He walks through the aisles, looking at the displayed trinkets in awe. Everything in the shop is handcrafted, ranging from wooden animal figurines to glass lockets hanging from woven cords. Minhyun peers at a carved tortoise paperweight and decides that the shop owner is either a magic user or very, very skilled at his craft for someone so young.

Seongwoo hasn't moved from his spot since Minhyun last saw him, so he goes over to see what Seongwoo’s looking at. It's a pair of matching keychains, one white opal and the other black opal, both carved into the shape of a tea rose.

“Ah, are you getting that for your girlfriend?” Minhyun asks, only to get a strange look from Seongwoo in return.

“I don't have a girlfriend,” Seongwoo says, warily.

“A boyfriend, then?”

“What? No!” Seongwoo looks almost scandalised.

Minhyun frowns, brows furrowed in confusion. “But if you don’t have a partner, and Daniel can’t have flowers in his cafe, then why do you buy a bouquet every day?”

Of all the reasons Seongwoo could've answered with, like _I bribe my teachers with flowers to get straight As_ or _I am secretly a hundred-year-old garden fairy that eats flowers for sustenance_ , Minhyun hadn’t expected Seongwoo to blush. “It was a good excuse to keep dropping by,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I like talking to you.”

Minhyun blinks, letting the words sink in, then laughs, bright and melodious. “Idiot,” Minhyun teases, voice lilting, “you don't need a reason to drop by. I enjoy your company, too.”

Oddly, his heart feels something vaguely resembling relief. Minhyun doesn't know why, so he just brushes it off, not paying it much attention, and by the time they get back to the flower shop he's forgotten about it entirely.

 

 

◀◀

As much as Minhyun tries to keep his feelings hidden under a cool composure, he’s always been an easy book to read. Jisung says as much one morning, watching Minhyun amusedly from the stairwell, a mug of warm soymilk in his hand.

“Staring at the door isn’t going to make him magically appear, you know,” Jisung teases, a knowing glint in his eye.

Minhyun immediately tears his eyes away from the door, ears burning a bright red. “Who says I’m waiting for him?”

Jisung chuckles. “It’s written all over your face.”

Embarrassed, Minhyun turns his attention back to the bouquet in front of him, trimming a leaf off. “He’s a nice guy, I enjoy his...company,” he settles on saying.

“Seongwoo? Nice?” Jisung asks in disbelief, shaking his head as he grins, amused, “Hwang Minhyun, you are absolutely smitten.”

“I’m not,” Minhyun protests weakly.

Realisation dawns, and Jisung’s smile slips off his face, concern replacing the mirth in his eyes. “Minhyun. You like him, don’t you?”

Minhyun stills, staring at the flowers in his hands, studying the edges where the sepal ends and a petal begins. A long silence passes before he finally speaks up, voice small, “Yeah.”

“Minhyun,” Jisung sighs, a note of warning in his voice, “you know you can’t let him get too close.”

Minhyun smiles ruefully, still not meeting Jisung’s gaze. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, fingers shakily sliding a stalk of baby’s breath into the bouquet, “I won’t.”

 

 

▶▶

They’re at the ramen shop down the street, a cosy little hole-in-the-wall joint with bar seating and wooden decor.

Seongwoo, it seems, has an insatiable appetite, having eaten five slices of pizza in one sitting for lunch and still somehow having space for a substantial dinner. Minhyun’s made of petals and magic, so he technically doesn’t need to eat, but as always he lets himself be convinced by Seongwoo’s _you don’t need to, but don’t you want to?_

He does want to, if he lets himself admit it. Spending time with Seongwoo is fun, in a way that he’s never experienced before, and he always feels a little wistful whenever it’s time for Seongwoo to return to the dorm.

Seongwoo’s eyes positively light up when his chashu ramen arrives, tucking into it with gusto, and Minhyun laughs, finding his enthusiasm for food absolutely endearing. Then his own bowl arrives too, and the first bite proves to be absolutely heavenly. Minhyun figures must be wearing the exact same expression Seongwoo had on just seconds ago, because it’s Seongwoo’s turn to laugh.

Minhyun sticks his tongue out at him, fully expecting one of Seongwoo’s usual snarky remarks, but none comes. Instead, Seongwoo’s gazing at him with that strange look in his eyes again, the one that Minhyun can’t quite read. Then all of a sudden Seongwoo leans in and brushes his thumb over the edge of Minhyun’s lips, touch warm and gentle.

Almost as quickly as it happened, it’s over, and Seongwoo’s pulling back, wiping his thumb on a napkin. Minhyun can barely react, still stunned by the sudden contact, the warmth of Seongwoo’s touch still lingering on his lips in the cool night air.

“Just returning the favour,” Seongwoo grins, seemingly unaware of the way Minhyun’s heart is doing that funny flip-flopping thing again, like it’s struggling to right itself after being bowled over. Minhyun mumbles a quick _thanks_ , and tries to convince himself that the heat rising in his cheeks is due to the piping hot broth in front of him.

It almost works, until Seongwoo makes a little noise in the back of his throat, his mouth still full, clapping his hands together as if he’s suddenly remembered something. Minhyun watches him quizzically as he reaches for his bag and pulls a little box out, then holds it in his hands like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

It’s tied clumsily with a ribbon, one side longer than the other. Minhyun looks at Seongwoo with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“What’s this? Should I re-tie the ribbon for you?” Minhyun teases, mirth twinkling in his eyes.

What Minhyun doesn’t expect, however, is for Seongwoo to slide it across the table to him, a little too roughly, with a sheepish smile on his face. “It’s for you, dumbass,” he mumbles, turning back to his ramen.

Minhyun blinks, not having expected that at all, then pulls the ribbon loose and opens the box carefully. In it lies one of the two keychains Seongwoo had gotten at the craft store. It’s the white opal one, intricately carved petals shimmering in the warm light of the ramen shop and the flickering streetlight outside.

Dimly, Minhyun realises it’s the first gift he’s ever received. “Thank you,” Minhyun says softly, “I really like it.”

Seongwoo looks up from his ramen, and smiles. “I’m glad,” he says, and it is only then that Minhyun notices the matching black opal keychain hanging on Seongwoo’s backpack, like a little promise just the two of them share.

Minhyun quickly reaches for his tea, letting the warm sencha wash over his throat, hoping the lacquer cup will hide the blush painting his cheeks.

(He has no way to cover his reddening ears, but Seongwoo thankfully doesn’t notice, having gone back to devouring his ramen.)

 

 

▶▶

The next morning, as usual, Minhyun sets up the shop with only the faint glow of candlelight, the sun not having risen yet.

He finishes before sunrise, like always, and moves to sit down behind the counter, ready for the first customer of the day. His bag sits on the floor next to him, where he’d left it the previous night, keychain hanging on the zipper.

Deftly, Minhyun unhooks the keychain from his bag and holds it in his palm, letting it dangle from his finger. The opal reflects the dim candlelight, the flecks of iridescent colour gleaming like confetti on white sand.

He remembers the way Seongwoo had given it to him, endearingly embarrassed. The way he'd wiped the sauce off his lips for him, the pad of his finger rough but gentle. The way he'd laughed, bright and unabashed, eyes gazing at him with a tenderness Minhyun somehow hadn't noticed before.

The sun is in the sky now, shining down on the street, heralding the start of a new day. Minhyun lets its gentle warmth wash over him as he blows the candles out, watching the wisps of smoke dissipate into the air as if they'd never existed. His heart is aching with the longing to see Seongwoo again, yet it is also inexplicably full with warmth, so full that it feels like it could burst.

It clicks, then, the realisation Minhyun’s been trying so hard to avoid all this while, for fear that admitting it would make it real.

He’s fallen, in all the ways Jisung had warned him not to. He's well and truly fallen, and what scares him most is how he doesn't want to get back up.

He's in love with Ong Seongwoo, and he doesn't want to stop.

 

 

▶▶

 _Remember, you can't fall for anyone,_  Jisung had said, _you will only cause pain for both parties involved._

Minhyun would do anything if it meant Seongwoo wouldn't have to feel that pain.

Maybe distance would help, Minhyun thinks, would give himself time to sort out his feelings and lock them away, would let Seongwoo adjust to not having Minhyun in his life. Would allow him to move on more easily when Minhyun’s gone.

The charade continues for a week, Minhyun making himself scarce as often as he can, until Seongwoo, tired and exasperated, finally decides he’s had enough. He corners Minhyun one morning as he’s leaving the storeroom, crowding him against the open door.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It isn’t a question. Seongwoo doesn’t like how the words taste bitter in his mouth as he bites them out, a hard edge to his voice.

To his credit, Minhyun doesn’t flinch, just averts his gaze. “I haven’t,” he says, carefully, “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

Seongwoo narrows his eyes. “So busy that you disappear into the greenhouse for hours on end when it’s usually you manning the shop? So busy that you have to cut all your flowers in the storeroom?” Seongwoo asks, almost incredulously. “Don’t lie to me, you’ve been acting weird the entire week,” he says, then pauses, as if deliberating his next words. Minhyun bites down on his lip, a nervous habit, the air around them thick with a tension that’s only pulled even more taut when Seongwoo speaks again.

“What are we, Minhyun?”

Minhyun blinks, taken aback. “What?”

“You hate the smell of coffee but you prepare coffee for me every morning without fail. You insist on keeping the shop absolutely spick and span but you don’t stop me from visiting even though I make a mess whenever I study here. You act so warm to me one day but keep your distance the next,” Seongwoo fires unrelentingly, voice thick with frustration. “Stop confusing me, Minhyun. What are we?”

Seongwoo’s gazing at him with an intensity that makes it feel like he’s laid bare, like Seongwoo can see through all of him. With every second that passes, there’s an itch crawling up Minhyun’s limbs, a creeping anxiety coiling in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to turn tail and flee.

Instead, Minhyun leans in and kisses him.

He pulls away just as quickly, a blush rapidly rising up his neck. Despite Jisung’s countless warnings repeating themselves in his head, despite all the laws of the universe explaining why he shouldn’t be doing this, Minhyun can’t help but wonder why it feels so right to be doing something so wrong. As if the spot next to Seongwoo was made for him and him alone, even though he does not belong there.

Seongwoo doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to let an uncomfortable silence fall over them. Minhyun fidgets with the hem of his shirt, then decides to break the silence. “That’s my answer,” Minhyun murmurs, voice small.

When Seongwoo still doesn’t respond, Minhyun ducks his head, blinking nervously as he tries to search for a way to escape. But before he can, Seongwoo places his hand on the doorframe, stopping Minhyun in his tracks. Minhyun looks up in surprise, eyes meeting Seongwoo’s and the whirlwind of emotions in them that Minhyun can’t quite decipher.

Seongwoo gazes at him for a long, drawn-out moment, then swoops in and kisses him properly, lips burning like fire on Minhyun’s own, like a forbidden fruit he doesn’t have the right to taste. Minhyun can barely breathe, the sudden sensations coursing through his body as if laced with lead, weighing him down in an ocean where he’s drowning without a lifeline.

“Then this is mine,” Seongwoo whispers against Minhyun’s lips, and despite every fiber of Minhyun’s being telling him to push Seongwoo away, he only pulls him closer.

 

 

▶▶

Things don’t change much after that. They slip back into their usual routine, only now it is peppered with kisses, quick and short to evade Jisung’s notice, and the way they look at each other with stars in their eyes.

Love doesn’t have to be about electrifying sparks and brilliant fireworks, Seongwoo learns. Love is the way Minhyun always notices his exhaustion before he does, brewing a warm cup of caramel macchiato without him needing to ask; love is the way Minhyun pulls all nighters with Seongwoo to keep him company through his deadlines; love is the way their fingers slot perfectly together, interlocked under the table.

It may not be like those cheesy romance novels that Seongwoo will never admit he’s read, but Seongwoo thinks he likes this kind of simple, easy love more.

(He’ll never admit any of this to Minhyun, though. Ong Seongwoo is most definitely not a sap.)

 

 

▶▶

Of course, nothing is ever just a bed of roses.

There are the days they fight over the smallest of things, but those usually end quickly, neither of them wanting to stay mad at the other for long. Then there are the days Minhyun has to face a particularly nasty customer and withdraws into himself for the rest of the day, an instinctive defence mechanism to cope with the vitriol flung at him.

Seongwoo has always given Minhyun his space, respecting him enough to let him deal with it by himself. But the unease grows and grows and finally reaches its peak when Minhyun disappears for hours on end one day, much longer than he's ever done. Seongwoo finds him in the storeroom, curled up in a corner, face buried in his knees.

He steps closer, cautiously. Minhyun looks up at the sound of his footsteps, but doesn't say anything, gaze glassy and blank. Seongwoo doesn't know what happened, but he doesn't need to know; the red rims around Minhyun’s eyes are telling enough.

“Are you okay?” Seongwoo crouches down to meet Minhyun’s gaze, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush his tears away. but he holds himself back, afraid of upsetting Minhyun further, or worse, frightening him.

“Why do you care?” Minhyun lashes out, yet the look in his eyes isn’t of anger, but that of a wounded animal.

“Of course i care,” Seongwoo says, like it’s an obvious truth. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You come from a city that hates magic,” Minhyun retorts, changing the topic to avoid having to answer Seongwoo, “don’t you hate it, too?”

“Why would I move here if I hated magic?” Seongwoo points out. “You and I both know this district is one of the more magic-friendly areas.”

“Your university is close by, you said you moved here to save on transportation fees. Staying here even though you hate magic would be worth it. People will do anything for money,” Minhyun responds dully, as if reciting lines said to him before. “You’re a theatre major, it wouldn’t be difficult to trick someone like me. Maybe you’re just here out of convenience, maybe—”

“Minhyun.” Seongwoo’s voice, firm yet gentle, startles Minhyun into silence. “Do you really think I’m the type of person who would do that?”

Seongwoo’s gaze feels like it’s piercing right through him, sapping the tension from his limbs, compelling him to admit the truth. So he does. “No,” Minhyun whispers, voice small.

“Then stop running away,” Seongwoo says, gaze softening into something resembling tenderness, “because I’m not going anywhere.” _We’ll get through this together_ goes unspoken, but it hangs heavy in the air, like a promise of a warm harbour that will always welcome Minhyun home.

Minhyun looks at Seongwoo for a long, searching moment, breath catching in his throat. “Okay,” he finally says, the word and all it represents unfamiliar on his tongue.

For once, he lets himself believe it.

 

 

▶▶

Today, Seongwoo decides he’s too tired after a week crammed with exams to explore the neighbourhood, so instead they hop on a bus without a destination in mind.

It's Minhyun’s first time out of the little neighbourhood the flower shop belongs to. Seongwoo lets him have the window seat, amused at how he practically plasters himself to the window, fascinated by the scenery whipping by.

Before long, the sun begins to set. Its warmth is starting to make Minhyun sleepy, so he snuggles close to Seongwoo, resting his head on his shoulder. Seongwoo turns to look at him, stroking the top of his head, almost like he’s petting a cat.

Then the bus drives onto the highway, out of the shade of high-rise buildings, and the sun shines brightly through the windows, illuminating the two of them. Minhyun shifts, whining softly in his sleep, eyes scrunched up. Seongwoo smiles fondly, then removes his baseball cap, placing it over Minhyun’s head to block the sun from his eyes.

Minhyun makes a contented noise, and Seongwoo rests his head against Minhyun’s, closing his eyes and basking in Minhyun’s warmth against his side, a small smile playing on his lips.

 

 

▶▶

Somewhere in between a textbook on the elements of set design and half an essay dissecting the use of juxtaposition in _Hamlet_ , Seongwoo’s stomach growls.

A glance up at the clock on his wall tells him that it’s nine pm, which means he’s accidentally missed dinner. Seongwoo groans, deciding he can’t salvage his productivity on an empty stomach, and heads downstairs to the common room.

Grabbing two packets of chips from the snack basket (hey, Seongwoo had never claimed to be particularly healthy), he’s about to return to his room when he passes by two boys, their conversation giving him pause.

They’re loitering around the microwave, presumably waiting for whatever’s inside to be heated up. Then the shorter boy, with the large, pretty eyes, says absently, “Isn’t it about time for the current one to wither?”

“Yeah, it should be sometime soon,” the other boy replies, a trace of a foreign accent in his voice, “I wonder what kind of flower boy Jisung will make to replace him.”

Seongwoo doubles back and grabs his arm, eyes wide. “What do you mean by that?”

The boy blinks up at Seongwoo, startled. “Um, you know the boys that help Jisung out around his shop? They’re made from flowers, so,” he swallows, fidgeting uncomfortably at how Seongwoo’s still holding his arm in a death grip, “after some time, they’ll wither and die.”

Seongwoo reels, dropping the young boy’s arm along with the chip packets. Before he even registers it, he’s already running, breath caught in his throat.

 

 

◀◀

Seongwoo scribbles out the rest of his last sentence, then caps his pen with a flourish, tossing it into his pencilcase.

He turns, fully expecting a congratulatory kiss from Minhyun as usual, only to be greeted by a sleeping Minhyun, soft breaths puffing against the table where he’s resting his head on his arms.

Like this, sound asleep, Minhyun looks even more fragile and delicate, like he’d shatter at a single touch. He’s shimmering, slightly, shrouded by the faint glow of magic, and Seongwoo thinks it makes him look ethereal, like Minhyun is a figment of his dreams that’ll disappear into fairy dust.

Seongwoo shrugs his jacket off and drapes it around Minhyun, tucking in the sleeves so it doesn’t fall. Shifting slightly, Minhyun unconsciously pulls the jacket tighter around himself, making a small sound of contentment. Seongwoo watches him, enamoured, and smiles fondly.

“I love you,” Seongwoo whispers, finally mustering up the courage to say the words now that no one’s listening. “Don’t ever leave me, okay?”

 

 

▶▶

Seongwoo tears down the street, legs moving as if on autopilot, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. The wind whips past his face painfully and he belatedly realises he isn’t wearing a coat, but it doesn’t matter, none of it matters now when it’s his last chance to see Minhyun, his Minhyun, and he may very well have lost it already.

 

 

(Minhyun dies. Seongwoo doesn’t move on.)

 

 

▶▶

One night, as Jisung’s packing up, Seongwoo stumbles into the store, legs weak and wobbly. Jisung figures he’s probably drunk before he realises he can't smell any liquor on him.

“Jisung,” Seongwoo slurs, and Jisung winces at how hoarse his voice sounds, “can’t you bring Minhyun back?”

He’s never seen him this emotional before, this vulnerable and raw. Seongwoo looks up at him with bloodshot eyes and Jisung just wants to tell him that everything will be okay, but he doesn't, because he knows it isn’t the truth.

“Seongwoo, I can’t,” Jisung murmurs gently, a silent apology in his words. “The most I can do is attempt to make him again, but I can't guarantee it’ll work. And even if it does—” he cuts himself off, afraid that his words would hurt Seongwoo even more, would dig their claws into his heart and break him. But Seongwoo deserves to know the truth. “Even if it does, he won't have any of his previous memories.”

“Please,” Seongwoo begs, voice cracking piteously, tears slipping past his lashes, “please.”

Jisung sighs, a long, weary exhale. “Alright,” he says, hoping for both their sakes that he isn't promising something he cannot deliver. “I’ll try.”

 

 

▶▶

Life goes on, Seongwoo learns, even when you don't want it to.

He works extra shifts at the cafe when he can't take the silences and empty spaces anymore, filling his mind with menial tasks until he doesn't have time or energy left to think. Thinking means remembering, and remembering is something that hurts too much for Seongwoo to bear.

Once, while chatting with Jisung, Daniel slips up and accidentally mentions Minhyun. He realises his mistake far too late when Jisung motions panickedly at Seongwoo, sitting in a corner of the shop as usual, pen having stilled where it was previously writing on a textbook.

The only reaction he betrays is the tightening of his grip around his pen, knuckles turning white, before he continues writing, movements slow and controlled. Relieved at the lack of reaction, Daniel and Jisung turn back to their conversation, and Seongwoo lets himself wince at how it still hurts to hear his name.

Jisung’s more observant than he lets on, though, so Seongwoo finds himself being pulled aside after Daniel’s left the shop.

“I'm sorry, I should’ve been more careful,” Jisung apologises, brows furrowed in worry and guilt. Seongwoo shakes his head mutely, shoulders slumped, too drained to say a word.

The ensuing silence hangs heavy on both of them, two people missing the same person, though in very different ways. Seongwoo can feel the tears threatening to rise up in his throat again, so he bites down hard on his tongue, letting the sharp pain distract him from his thoughts. Something must show on his face, though, because Jisung’s looking at him with a pinched look on his face.

“You know, I made Minhyun out of a lisianthus flower,” Jisung says, voice barely above a whisper, “lisianthuses are said to represent unchanging love.” He pauses, swallowing hard, as if that would somehow keep the tears and the burgeoning hope at bay. “Remember what I told you back then, what sorcerers say about flower beings?”

Seongwoo remembers, of course. Remembers it word for word, even. _Flower beings are said to take on the traits that their flower of origin represents,_  Jisung had explained. _For example, since chrysanthemums represent optimism and joy, a chrysanthemum being will have a positive and cheerful personality._

The words that had sounded fascinating back then seem all too cruel now. Seongwoo nods, wordlessly, wanting nothing more than to scream _stop giving me false hope, it’ll only make it hurt more._

But of course Jisung is no mind reader, so he looks at Seongwoo with a sheen in his eyes that could either be from unshed tears or brimming hope, and says, “Trust in Minhyun’s love, okay?”

 

 

It is a warm spring day, bordering on the cusp of summer, when it all begins again.

Seongwoo trudges into the flower shop, sleepy and tired as usual, only to stop in his tracks when an all-too-familiar face greets him from the counter.

“Minhyun..?” Seongwoo asks breathily, half convinced his eyes are playing tricks on him. The boy blinks, surprised, then smiles, making his eyes crinkle the way they always did at Seongwoo’s bad jokes.

“Ah, I’m assuming Jisung’s told you my name— you’re Seongwoo, right? He talks about you a lot,” Minhyun quips, wiping his hands with the same cloth he always used, “though he talks a lot in general, really.”

Seongwoo can barely move, can barely believe what he's seeing is real. The words slip out before he even realises he's saying them.

“You don't remember me?”

Minhyun fidgets with the cloth in his hands, then shakes his head apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

The guilt in Minhyun’s voice snaps Seongwoo back to his senses. “No, no, it's okay,” Seongwoo backpedals hastily, flashing a stiff smile, “we were just friends, that's all.”

He can't burden Minhyun with his feelings, can't pressure him into something he doesn't want. He knows that if Minhyun, self-sacrificial as ever, were to find out that they used to be in love, he'd try his hardest to love him again, even if he didn't feel anything for him. And that just isn't fair.

“Ah, is that so?” Minhyun’s lips curve into a relieved smile, eyes earnest and enthusiastic. “Let's be friends again, then!”

Seongwoo nods, lips pressed into a thin smile. He doesn't trust himself to speak, so he busies himself with picking out flowers and tries to pretend his fingers aren't shaking from the effort it takes to rein in his feelings. _You knew it would turn out this way,_  Seongwoo reminds himself bitterly, _this is the price you have to pay for being selfish. This is how it should be._

 

 

▶▶

It isn't as easy as Seongwoo had thought it would be.

More often than not, he finds himself slipping back into old habits, hand reaching out to slot itself between Minhyun’s fingers, only pulling away at the last second when he realises what he’s doing. Finds himself wanting nothing more than to rest Minhyun’s head on his shoulder when he notices him dozing off. Finds himself, above all, wanting to pull Minhyun close, even though he knows he has no right to.

Like now. He’s poring over a monologue, scribbling notes and erasing them almost as quickly as he’d written them down, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Before long, Minhyun wanders over to see what’s causing him so much distress, peering over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

The sudden question breaks Seongwoo’s concentration, and he jolts, startled, whirling to face Minhyun. It puts their faces close, too close, to each other, and Seongwoo’s gaze can’t help but drop to Minhyun’s lips, the urge to kiss him suddenly surging through his veins.

He manages to catch himself before he does, swallowing hard as he pulls back. The air around them is still charged with tension, and Seongwoo catches Minhyun looking at him quizzically, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“It's nothing,” Seongwoo forces himself to say, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

 

▶▶

This Minhyun may be an exact carbon-copy of his Minhyun, appearance-wise, but Jisung was right; there is no way to duplicate memories. Seongwoo finds that out the hard way after one too many times of referencing a past memory and receiving a blank stare in response.

“I’m sorry,” Minhyun murmurs, guilt written on his face. Seongwoo laughs it off and tries to pretend it doesn’t affect him as much as it does.

(“It’s okay, we can make new memories together,” Seongwoo says, but he knows it is only a lie to comfort himself.)

 

 

▶▶

They're stargazing, lying on an old picnic mat pilfered from Jisung, the occasional star twinkling against the black canvas of the night sky stretching out above them.

Seongwoo’s hand inches towards Minhyun’s, just as it did so many times before, until Seongwoo realises what he's doing and abruptly pulls back like he's been burned. Minhyun clocks the action, eyes unreadable, then exhales, sitting up.

"We weren’t just friends before, were we?” Minhyun says softly. “We were something more.”

Seongwoo doesn't know the right words to say, doesn't know how to confess all the feelings he's boxed up and stored away in the recesses of his heart. So he nods mutely, not trusting himself to speak, dredged-up emotions swirling in his chest.

“You must have loved him a lot,” Minhyun whispers, eyes downcast and shining with unshed tears. “I'm sorry I’m not him.”

Seongwoo feels like the air has been knocked out of him, stolen by the same boy who used to take his breath away, only this is different. He’s different and they both know it. Seongwoo doesn't respond, doesn't call his name, doesn't reach out and pull him close and tell him that he loves him too. Instead, he watches Minhyun leave, figure smaller than he's ever seen him, then flops back down onto the picnic mat when even that proves too much for his heart to bear.

He stares up at the sky above him, his heart aching for the missing piece that he'll never get back, and thinks how unfair it is that stars get to live for centuries.

 

                 

(In this lifetime, they only ever remain friends. Seongwoo thinks it's the biggest regret of his life.)

 

 

Seongwoo makes mistakes, but he likes to think he learns from them, even if he’s ultimately just a fool in love.

This time, he doesn’t tell him about their shared past. He acts like he’s meeting Minhyun for the first time, shows him around the neighbourhood and tries his best to ignore the weird looks from the shopkeepers when he exclaims that he’s never been to their shops before.

 _You’re a theatre major, Ong Seongwoo,_ he tells himself, _you can do this._

He can fool Minhyun, but he can’t fool himself. Falling in love with this Minhyun feels like the first time all over again, but there’s something pinging at the back of his mind, gnawing away at his heart.

This Minhyun falls in love with him, too, kisses him softly and gazes at him tenderly, an echo of their past. But this Minhyun fiddles with the hems of his sleeves instead of blinking rapidly when he’s nervous. This Minhyun prefers working by lamplight instead of by candlelight, and this Minhyun drinks mocha from time to time, even though he still dislikes the smell of regular coffee.

It’s the small things, but they leave an unsettling feeling, like this Minhyun is someone else wearing the same skin. Seongwoo hates himself for comparing the two, even though it’s an unconscious, involuntary comparison, one that he never wants to make. It still leaves the bitter taste of guilt in his mouth, rancid and awful.

 

  

(How do you love someone who can never remember you?)

 

 

Seongwoo has never known how to love in moderation.

The one time he’d tried, it’d gone terribly. Seongwoo will always regret wasting all the chances he could have had with that Minhyun, all the memories they could have made together if only Seongwoo hadn’t been so busy being a coward.

So for the next lifetime, and the next, and the next, Seongwoo pours every bit of himself into loving Minhyun, finally allowing himself to love without restraint, no longer holding himself back.

It still feels unfamiliar to Seongwoo, giving himself wholly to someone else, loving him utterly, living every day like it's their last. Sometimes, he can’t help wondering if perhaps he’s giving away parts of himself that he’ll never truly get back, parts of himself that wither and die at the end of each Minhyun’s lifetime.

(He wonders if he’ll ever feel whole again.)

 

  

Seongwoo loves movie nights, because he gets to snuggle with Minhyun on the couch, swathed in blankets, but Seongwoo also hates movie nights.

Minhyun has a penchant for romance movies, especially the extra-cheesy ones with fate and destiny and whatnot involved. Seongwoo’s never liked romance flicks, not since that day, but he watches them because Minhyun wants to, even though it feels like twisting a knife that’s already been plunged hilt-deep into him.

“Isn’t it sweet how they were fated to be together all along?” Minhyun practically gushes once the credits roll. “Everyone thought their powers made them enemies but they were actually meant to complement each other, and now that everything’s been resolved they get to spend the rest of eternity together!”

Seongwoo doesn’t realise he’s wearing a scowl on his face until he sees the smile slip off Minhyun’s. He tries to put on a more neutral expression, but by then it is too late, and Minhyun’s already looking at him with guilt in his eyes.

He braces himself for the apology he’s heard too many times, from this Minhyun and the Minhyuns before him, preparing himself for the inevitable feelings of frustration and helplessness that are sure to follow. But Minhyun doesn’t apologise, just takes Seongwoo’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“You know, their forever may be measured in time,” Minhyun murmurs, voice soft yet sure, “but ours doesn’t have to be.” He leans in, kissing Seongwoo lightly, whispering against his lips, “My forever is here, with you.”

Seongwoo just barely stops his face from crumpling up, vision going blurry with tears. He cups Minhyun’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead almost reverently, and says, “Mine, too.”

 

  

By now, Seongwoo’s been through enough of Minhyun’s lifetimes to know exactly how to make his last moments as comfortable as possible.

He’d gotten two bouquets of lisianthus flowers from Jisung as usual, having learnt long ago from trial and error that one isn’t enough and three results in an excess that he doesn’t need. The stalks are scattered on the bed, surrounding Minhyun’s prone form, pale pink petals mirroring the colour of Minhyun’s lips.

The heater’s on and set to low, warming the room like the sunrise on a spring day, but Minhyun’s skin still feels frighteningly cold to the touch. Seongwoo knows it’s merely a symptom, and that he can’t do anything to change it (he’d tried once, and the excess heat had only made Minhyun uncomfortable), but it doesn’t stop the twisting in his heart.

Minhyun mumbles something then, too faint for Seongwoo to hear, so he moves closer, tenderly brushing the hair out of Minhyun’s eyes as he leans in.

“Are you going to remember me?” Minhyun asks, words escaping in short puffs of breath against the shell of Seongwoo’s ear.

This Minhyun knows, Seongwoo dimly remembers. He’d seen the jars sitting on Seongwoo’s shelf, each half-full with lisianthus petals, and had pestered Seongwoo to tell him what they were, refusing to take no for an answer. Reluctantly, Seongwoo had come clean to him, and Minhyun had hugged him tightly when he noticed the way his shoulders were shaking.

After years of loving Minhyun, Seongwoo’s learnt to hear all the words he doesn’t say. He reaches out to stroke Minhyun’s hair, touch gentle and reassuring.

“Always,” he murmurs, tucking a lisianthus bloom behind Minhyun’s ear.

 

 

◀◀

The shop is illuminated by just the dim flickering of candlelight, bathing the room in a warm glow.

Seongwoo’s fallen asleep on top of his textbook, pen still grasped between his fingers. Minhyun eases it out of his hand and caps it before setting it back down on the table, next to Seongwoo’s pile of highlighters and sticky notes.

Seongwoo had told him to wake him up if he accidentally fell asleep, intent on pulling an all-nighter to finish his essay, but Minhyun’s seen the dark circles under Seongwoo’s eyes and the exhaustion laced through his limbs. He knows Seongwoo needs rest, and he can’t bear to take it away from him, can’t bear to let Seongwoo continue pushing himself towards the brink of collapsing.

Gingerly, so as not to make any sound, Minhyun pushes his chair back and pads towards his bedroom, returning with his blanket. He drapes it around Seongwoo’s shoulders, tucking it in around him, slow and careful so as not to wake Seongwoo up.

 _Just ten more minutes,_  Minhyun thinks to himself as he sits back down, putting his arm on the table and resting his head on it to gaze at Seongwoo’s sleeping form.

Like this, with his guard down and jokester mask off, Seongwoo looks soft and vulnerable, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Minhyun reaches out, wanting to trace the lines of Seongwoo’s face, but draws back at the last second, afraid of waking Seongwoo up.

He settles for just watching him sleep instead, heart swelling at the way Seongwoo mumbles something unintelligible, shifting a little and pulling his textbook closer to himself, as if it’s a pillow he’s cuddling. Minhyun smiles, fondly, wondering what someone like him has ever done to deserve someone like Seongwoo.

He feels like he’s on a car with its brakes cut, hurtling straight for a cliff’s edge, yet he doesn’t want to jump out. Jisung’s warnings ring in his head again, as they always do, and he knows he ought to end things before it’s too late, but he can’t bring himself to let go of Seongwoo. He feels so, so selfish, clinging on foolishly even though he knows it’ll only cause pain in the end, but he doesn’t want to lose what they have. Wants, instead, to savour every moment, to paint his impermanence with the colours of Seongwoo’s love.

"I may not last very long,” Minhyun whispers, voice thick with unshed tears, “but I’ll always love you. Always.”

 

 

The years fly by, lost to chasing dreams and meeting deadlines and learning how to fall in love over and over again.

Seongwoo ends up in a practical nine-to-five job in a media company, completely unlike the star-studded acting career he’d wanted to pursue, but he finds he doesn’t mind it that much, not when this job is stable and pays the bills. This Minhyun is a graphic designer that works from home, which means there’s always a warm meal waiting on the table when Seongwoo returns after work.

It means they get to spend their evenings cuddled together, watching the latest drama airing on TV; it means they fall asleep tangled up in each other, Minhyun snug in Seongwoo’s arms; it means Seongwoo wakes up every morning to light, fluttering kisses peppered over his nose and the constellation of moles on his cheek.

This morning is no different, and Seongwoo opens his eyes to see Minhyun sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, fingers carding through Seongwoo’s hair, gazing at him tenderly.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Minhyun teases, a fond smile on his lips.

“Good morning, bighead,” Seongwoo grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Minhyun laughs, clear and tinkly in the tranquil morning. “Still as childish as ever, I see,” he quips, eyes mirthful. “Breakfast’s in the kitchen, as usual. I made pancakes, since you said you were craving them last night.”

Seongwoo reaches out to grab Minhyun’s hand before he can leave the room, tugging him close. Minhyun loses his balance and falls onto Seongwoo with a soft yelp, then giggles when Seongwoo rubs their noses together. “You sure know the way to my heart,” Seongwoo coos, kissing him lightly.

Minhyun bats at Seongwoo’s shoulder in mock indignation. “Go brush your teeth before you kiss me, you overgrown puppy,” Minhyun scowls, but the redness on the tips of his ears gives him away. “C’mon, breakfast is getting cold and you’re going to be late for work.”

"I’d rather be late if it means I get to spend more time with you,” Seongwoo immediately says, meaning every word of it.

Minhyun blushes, covering up his embarrassment with a quick kiss to Seongwoo’s cheek. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he murmurs, then makes his escape from the room, cheeks burning.

Seongwoo laughs as he watches him go, affection blooming in his chest.

Later, while they’re eating their pancakes, Minhyun suddenly asks, “Don’t you ever get tired of this?”

The question gives Seongwoo pause, and he sets his fork down to gaze at Minhyun. He studies the sharp, intelligent slope of Minhyun’s eyes, the chiseled slant of his cheekbones, the way his teeth bite slightly at his bottom lip.

It’s a nervous habit he’s had through all his lifetimes. Seongwoo looks back up at Minhyun’s eyes, and sees the trepidation in them, but also the sincerity, the trust, and his unchanging love, reflected back at him.

This is his Minhyun, Seongwoo realises. Not the first Minhyun, whom he’d fallen in love with all those winters ago. Not the second Minhyun, who became his biggest regret. Not the third, or fourth, or any of the Minhyuns in between. But this Minhyun is still his Minhyun all the same.

“No,” he says, simply, and means it. 

 

 

(“Do you love me?” Minhyun asks, suddenly, casually.

They’re watching one of those terrible chick flicks again, the kind that Minhyun likes and Seongwoo pretends not to. Seongwoo doesn’t think much of the question, so he replies without taking his eyes off the screen, “Of course I do.”

“No,” Minhyun says, and Seongwoo doesn’t understand what he’s objecting to until he repeats, “do you love _me?_ ”

It clicks, then, the weight of Minhyun’s question, too similar to the weight Seongwoo bears on his shoulders every day.

He turns to face Minhyun, and they gaze at each other, time falling still around them, as if everything else stands on the cusp of their world and they are the only two who matter in this moment. Minhyun’s looking at Seongwoo in that way again, like he doesn’t understand what Seongwoo sees in him, like he’s afraid all this is just a dream, a charade in which he’s playing the part of an impostor.

Seongwoo moves the popcorn bucket to the coffee table, then reaches out to pull Minhyun close, the crown of his head nestling perfectly into the crook of Seongwoo’s neck, just as it always has.

“More than you’ll ever know,” he whispers into the soft strands atop Minhyun’s head, and it sounds like a promise of eternity.)

  

**Author's Note:**

> my headcanon: ong, nearing his forties, begging jisung to make an older version of minhyun because "fine, i admit it, i'm getting old, i can't keep dating someone who looks half my age!" jisung just Sighs and agrees because he's used to ong's theatrics by now
> 
> maybe one time he makes a fifty-year-old minhyun just to mess with ong :^)
> 
> anyway!! a huge thank you to whoever submitted prompt #319:
>
>> AU where a florist creates flower boys to help him around his shop, but like flowers they were made from, they’ll eventually die. A regular customer finds out the hard way.
> 
> i really enjoyed writing it and i hope i managed to meet your expectations!!
> 
> (special thanks to kelly for beta-ing and supporting me through this fic ♡)
> 
> you can hmu [@berryhyuns](https://twitter.com/berryhyuns) on twitter to yell at me heh c':


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